You're on a Need-To-Know Basis.

Dear Client:

Today was embarassing. Today, I had to tell a judge that you no longer wanted me to represent you. This, though, was not the embarassing part. I don't give a crap if you don't want me to represent you. There are lots of reasons you might have for hiring a different attorney:

1 - I didn't show up for your first hearing. (This wasn't as bad as it sounds.)

2 - I'm a girl, and you don't like girls. (Ok, I don't really know how you feel about girls in theory... but I do know that you hit them pretty often. And I know that I hit things that I don't like, like my unbalanced washing machine.)

3 - At least in the attorney world, I come in on the young side at 29. For that reason, you might think that I suck at my job. (I don't. At least, not always.)

When you told me that you hired another attorney, that was fine. But I what I needed to know was WHO the other attorney was so I could (1) call that attorney to confirm it; and (2) withdraw from the case. I believe your exact words were, "I don't want to offend you, but I'm really not comfortable telling you that."

Okay. Let's talk about this.

Thing is...this is a strange piece of information you've chosen to withhold from me. You've already told me that you hit your girlfriend. You also told me that one thing I might hear about during this case is how you make your girlfriend have "freaky sex." And even though I didn't ask for any details about it, you provided me with a few. I looked back (nostalgically) at my legal pad of notes from our first (and only) meeting, and here are some of the things I wrote down:

• always picked them up --> have sex at lake
• T---- still writes: she's "psycho"
• victim didn't mention his gold tooth in description - mistaken identity?
• tie her up when drunk/drugged/high for sex, sometimes "rough"
• "gigolo"

Client, I'm not going to pretend that I've understood everything you've told me. I don't even understand my own notes about you. But my point is this: you've told me a lot of things. Personal things. Why wouldn't you just tell me who your new attorney was? Because today, I asked the Judge for permission to withdraw from your case, and he naturally asked who would be replacing me. When I was forced to say,

"I don't know, Your Honor. My client won't tell me," I'm pretty sure the Judge was mocking me when he replied,

"Because it's a secret?"

By the way, Client, I looked up your new attorney in the Clerk's office. It's Larry. And Larry sucks. Enjoy jail.

All best,
Unfortunate Lawyer

Maybe I'm not explaining my job very well.

I work at a private law firm, which means that the other 6.5 lawyers in the firm try to fill their schedules with paying clients. Not me. I have all kinds of clients who don't pay.

Sometimes I know they're not going to pay and I do the work anyway; other times, clients like to surprise me with that at the end of a case. And still other times, I work on contract with the Public Defender office, where I'm appointed by the court to represent clients on criminal charges that the PD's office doesn't have time to handle. This is where I meet some of my favorite people.

Today, my court-appointed Client had been charged with being a habitual violator of driving while his license was suspended. I introduced myself, explained what would happen at his arraignment that day, and made sure he knew the maximum penalties for what he'd been charged with. The maximum penalty for this is 2 years in jail. When Client heard this, he said something to the effect of:

"Whhhaaaaaaaaaaaat?" with an upward inflection on the end, for effect.

I then told Client the following things: (1) We can fight the charge and go to trial; (2) You can probably plead guilty to a lesser charge; (3) You will, under no circumstances, actually do 2 years in jail; and (4) It is most likely that you will do no jail time...none at all.

Client was either not listening, or simply not comforted by any of this, because he looked at me with suprising sincerity and said:

"I'm going to need to get a lawyer, aren't I?"

Dear Client

Dear Client:

I think it's time we had a little chat. I know that you are guilty. Not just a little bit guilty. You are absolutely, flagrantly, 100% guilty as hell. You did it. All of it. In fact, you're even guilty of a few things the prosecutor didn't charge you with. So let's just cut the act, shall we?

Oh, I'll still represent you. It's not a problem. I do it all the time. I just wanted you to know that I know. Here's what you need to do: (1) sit there; and (2) look less guilty than you do right now.

Can you do that? Seriously...let me do all the work here. I know you don't think so, since the court appointed me to be your free lawyer, but I'm pretty good at my job. Am I the best lawyer around? God, no. But one of us here is facing 3 felony charges and the other is not. So climb down off your high horse.

Client, I'm so glad I got this off my chest. I've been wanting to tell you this for a long time, and I feel like we've really cleared the air between us. I certainly hope that we can still be friends and such. I'll see you in court tomorrow. Me: tall, business suit, briefcase. You: look exactly like Santa Claus, but in an orange jumpsuit and shackles.

All best,
Unfortunate Lawyer

What's that guy doing with that brick? Oh, I see.

The Scene:
The Lexington, 11:00pm

The Players:

Troy
Unfortunate Lawyer
1 perpetrator, under the influence
1 gold station wagon
1 brick
1 station wagon window with unfortunate luck, but surprising resiliancy
1 question from Troy to Unfortunate Lawyer: "Should I call 911?"
1 answer from Unfortunate Lawyer to Troy: "No."
1 telephone call by Troy to 911
2 police cars
3 witness statements given to Officer Ryan, Midwest City Police Officer, FarmTown High School Class of 1996, 10th Grade Homecoming Date of Unfortunate Lawyer, Unapologetic Racist

The Victims/Casualties:

1 hysterical owner of a gold station wagon
1 station wagon window
1 tarnished memory from Homecoming 1993
Countless non-white residents of Midwest City

The Lessons Learned:

Troy enters people's license plate numbers into his Blackberry when they're not looking.

It takes every ounce of Officer Ryan's strength to refrain from shooting you. Yes, you.

When I leave Matt's apartment at 10:00 with the promise that I am 'going home', I should probably 'go home.'